


Sweater Thief

by bealeciphers



Category: The Flash (Comics), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4469888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bealeciphers/pseuds/bealeciphers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Len keeps taking Barry's things, and Barry thinks Len has kleptomania.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweater Thief

**Author's Note:**

> a drabble originally posted on my tumblr, coldflashcw

At first, Barry was sure it was an accident. Len kissed him goodbye, wearing Barry’s sweater with Len’s bag over his shoulder, just work related materials (Barry was still getting used to the idea of work being ‘master thief’ and Len was still getting used to the idea of not doing work for criminal reasons). Barry, after Len mumbled about meeting Barry at the diner outside the precinct on Barry’s lunch break, he could have sworn his shampoo was in Len’s bag. 

Len didn’t even need shampoo, he had a buzzcut. 

* * *

Len made spaghetti. It would have been impressive and domestic if Len hadn’t had his cellphone under his ear the whole time, yelling at Mick’s poor attempts at instructions. 

Barry told him to just google it, it was spaghetti but apparently rubbing noses with the Italian mob had given Len a taste for relentlessly seasoned pasta sauce and only Mick knew how to make it. 

Spaghetti, and Barry and Len almost sat down at a table to eat it like civilized people, when Len asked Barry if he’d ever watched UFC and then they were on the couch streaming pay-per-views on Barry’s tv. Len watched, intent, observing each fall and move by the combatants and had a dumb grin on Barry’s face everytime Barry winced and yelled “Ouch!” with the nastier looking punches. 

Barry lay down on the couch like a sloth, Len occassionally would get up to get a beer for himself and a handful of cookies for Barry, and they fell asleep. 

In the morning, Len gave Barry a soft kiss on Barry’s forehead before mumbling about making amends to Mick. When Barry finally had to accept that the harsh light streaming through his window was not going to leave, he woke up, went to get changed, and couldn’t find his favorite jacket or his coffeepot. 

* * *

“Did you take my coffeepot?”

“Oh. Yeah, I did.”

“The whole thing?”

“You want to stop by and get it?”

“Len. People accidentally take coffee mugs not coffeepots.”

“Interesting. See you in five.”

* * *

Barry sighed, hands still shaking from the effort. Len had sweat on his forehead, but his eyes closed and mouth open in satisfaction. Barry rolled off, and Len moaned, reaching out for him.

Barry grabbed Len’s hand, kissed it, and god, Len’s smile in the morning was beautiful. “Mmhm,” Len muttered. Barry nodded, kissing Len’s hand again. 

“You’re hands are cold,” Barry mumbled. He adjusted his legs, straightening his back with a groan, but Len was reaching out for him, legs curled over Barry’s, other hand reaching to wrap around Barry’s shoulder and pull them close. 

“We’re in your apartment…” Barry said slowly, closing his eyes and getting comfortable in the afterglow with Len. 

“Hm. Mhmm.” Len’s nose rubbed into a place under Barry’s neck, and when the man was comfortable and satisfied he sighed. Every bit of Len content. 

Barry mumbled, “Why are my pillows and blanket at your place?”

Len shrugged, sighed again, and didn’t answer.

* * *

Len was at Barry’s kitchen table, patting at a bleeding place on his eyebrow with a cloth, the first aid kit in front of him. Barry was rifling through his dresser as Len spoke. 

“I don’t see why you still work at that place,” Len said, loudly, pouting. 

“It’s called having a 'career’.  I’m not just a vigilante,” Barry said. He frowned, leaning down and ripping open the drawer. It was October, and somehow he couldn’t find a single article of clothing with long sleeves. 

“I had a career,” Len pointed out. 

Barry frowned, and glared at Len from across hallway. It was hard to stay mad at Len when the man was bleeding from saving the life of a bystander. Heroics… looked good on Len. Still. Barry had enough space to be annoyed. “Speaking of your career,” Barry said.

Len peeled open a bandage, nonchalant. “And?”

“Your kleptomania is gettig out of hand,” Barry said. He tried to be sympathetic. 

Len froze, looking at Barry with confusion and he blinked twice, two beats of silence. “My what?”

“Kleptomania,” Barry repeated, this time in a kinder tone.

“I don’t have kleptomania,” Len defended. 

“You do,” Barry insisted, “do you… should I stage an intervention? You definitely do, Len-”

“No, I don’t,” Len insisted.

“You’re always taking my clothes,” Barry reminded him. 

Len’s eyes narrowed. “So? People take their boyfriends clothes all the time.”

“That’s… that’s teenaged girls with hoodies, Len, you take all my clothes,” Barry said, frowning.

Len set the bandage over his eyebrow, annoyed. “Doesn’t mean I have kleptomania.”

“You continuously steal my coffee pot,” Barry reminded him.

“You’re always stealing it back. It’s funny,” Len said.

“Really?” Barry crossed his arms, defensive. “Why do you take my towels then? My shampoo? Soap?”

“Because now you take all your showers at my place,” Len smirked, and leaned forward with his fingers brushing against the table.  "Don’t you like taking all your showers at my place?“

"Well…” Barry was at a loss. “Just- could- jus- Just tone it down!”

“This has an obvious solution,” Len pointed out, tilting his head and lookin at Barry like he was studying him. 

“What?” Barry asked, annoyed. 

“Move in with me.” Len shut the first aid kit with a 'click’, looking at his own hands before his eyes flickered up to meet Barry’s.

“Or you’ll hold my sweaters hostage?” Barry asked, suddenly grinning.

Len smiled. “Something like that.”


End file.
